


A Kind of Magic

by Hestia01



Series: Celestial Harmonies [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Honeymoon, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Season/Series AU, Vacation, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 21:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestia01/pseuds/Hestia01
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley set out on a romantic honeymoon getaway





	1. Chapter 1

The bell over the bookshop rang, startling Aziraphale. His guarded expression melted into a welcoming smile as his husband— _his husband!_ —stepped through the door. “Hello, dear,” he sang at him cheerily.

“Planning on closing up any time soon, angel?”

Aziraphale pouted, glancing around the shop, as if to pretend that there was a great deal left to do. “Any special reason?” Then, his face grew drawn and anxious. Luckily, Crowley headed that worry off at the pass.

“NO! No, no no, nothing like that. Everything's fine. Didn't mean to scare you, Az.”

The angel bit his lip and fidgeted, doing his nervous little “dance” as Crowley called it. “Oh...I wish I could stop worrying. I know everything seems settled, but...”

“Just waiting for the hammer to fall.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Crowley grimaced as though they left a foul taste in his mouth. “Did I really just say that? Nothing to worry about. I've hung onto a paranoid old demon's bag of tricks. I won't burden you with the particulars but...” he made a few vague hand gestures, puzzling his husband. He made them bigger, as if that would help. They might be suggestive of an explosion? Or a dolphin? When realization failed to dawn on Aziraphale's face, he gave up and waved it off.

Aziraphale tsked and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Anyway...Yes, I suppose, to a certain degree. The longer we go...undisturbed, it makes me hope that perhaps they _are_ in fact leaving us alone.”

“I haven't heard a peep in over a month, angel. Neither have you.” Then, he groaned in defeat, as if the sight of his fretting husband was more than he could bear. “Oh, here...” he stepped around piles of books to get behind the counter with him. He pulled him into a hug, crushing him into his body. “I worry, too, all right? We're fine, though. We look after each other like we always did. I won't let them take us again without a fight, or a good backup plan. All right? Now just settle down before you start stress-molting.” He gave him a kiss and patted his shoulders, nuzzling their foreheads together in a way that to him felt even “closer” than kissing. “Look, this is perfect timing, actually. We've been married for two whole weeks and haven't even thought of our honeymoon yet. I've been looking around.”

“Have you?”

“Just the thing we need, to get away from it all.” Cautiously, he wended his way though the messy bookshop to get into better light.

Aziraphale followed, already looking calmer. He still fidgeted, but Crowley recognized this pattern as a cue of contentment rather than anxiety. He was obviously pleased, his worries laid aside...for now. “Where are we going? Alpha Centauri?”

Crowley waved that off. “Nah, thought we'd stay closer to home. How about the Caribbean?” He conjured a spread of travel brochures as well as, Aziraphale noted, restaurant guides.

There appeared to be something to cater to any holiday-maker's requirement or desire. Adventure packages, honeymoon couples retreats, rest and relaxation, night life...

“Are you sure that _we'd_ be welcome, my dear?” Aziraphale cast a significant look at his husband. As supportive as the neighborhood businesses had been of Messers Crowley-Fell, there was no way to guarantee such treatment anywhere else. He didn't want to sign up for a honeymoon getaway only to have snide looks or worse thrown their way.

Crowley riffled through the different resorts and picked one at random. He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Yes, hello. My name is Anthony Crowley and I was looking at your honeymoon package. My husband and I would like to—I see. Uh huh. Well, are you aware of any in the area that would be more...amenable? Look, I'm not asking for a specifically gay-themed honeymoon, I just want someplace where we'd...fit in. Uh huh.” He hung up. “I hope they enjoy the termite infestation. I'm sure no one will call the building inspectors, either,” he gave Aziraphale a wink, repeating the gesture he'd used to describe his demon's bag of tricks.

“I do hate to say 'I told you so,' my dear.”

“N-no you don't! Nobody does! We all love getting to say 'I told you so!' You were hoping you'd be wrong in this case, but that's not the same thing.” Crowley picked up another leaflet. “We'll try again.”

Fortunately, without needing any additional miracles or supernatural coaxing, the next resort he called more than made up for the first one. He hung up the phone triumphantly. “We are going to the Caribbean! Get ready for white sand beaches and bottomless cocktails, Mr. Crowley-Fell.” He swooped around him and kissed him again with a suggestive growl. “Get packed, we leave in the morning!”

“That soon?! But...what about the bookshop?” Aziraphale fussed, agitated again.

“Nobody even shops here, you don't want them to! With your madman's hours of operation,and you've done everything environmentally possible to deter actual shoppers. This is more your private library than anything else. Put the right, erm, guards in place before we leave and it should be fine.” With a wave of his hand, a sign appeared in the window that said “Closed for Proprietor's Honeymoon. See you next week!”

Still, the angel cast a bereft look at his hoard of books. “How many do you think I ought to take with me for the trip?” He wheedled coyly. He looked like he was planning to smuggle every last one along with him for safekeeping.

“I dunno. Two, three?” Crowley replied, sensing where he'd been going with his suggestion. “You're not packing the bookshop, Az. I'm not packing my Bentley. We're both giving up something.”

“You're right. Yes. Oh, but, how can I choose?” It was like they were his children. Crowley made it simple for him, stalking to three random piles and grabbing one from each.

“Here. You get a volume of love sonnets, a book about goat-herding for fun and profit, and some _highly_ questionable art,” he presented with a naughty grin. “Something tells me there won't be much time for reading, angel.”

Aziraphale made a disapproving face, taking the books that were given to him. “Crowley...”

“Ah, ah!” the demon chided, waggling a finger. “We're going out among humans, we have to use our human names. Did you ever pick one of those? You've gone by initials here for long enough. Even on our marriage license.”

With an uncomfortable shake of the head, Aziraphale replied, “No, I haven't. I just haven't gotten around to it. It just never came up! Or I just forget about it. The people I do business with are more than willing to be consistently formal. As long as the numbers all add up, that's all they care about. And, frankly, you're the only person I actually socialize with. Apart from the humans we've acquired along the way.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be the case,” Crowley growled, half to himself. “Would you mind if I named you?”

This brought an automatic smile to the angel's face. It certainly wasn't a typical milestone that couples passed, but he thought there was something sweetly _binding_ about receiving his human name from his husband. “Be my guest.”

Crowley waved a hand over the desk, a passport and identification card appeared in the name of Alexis Zira Crowley-Fell. Birth dates and other information came purely from guesswork.

He picked it up and examined it. “Isn't this a girl's name?”

“It's neutral. It means 'protector of humanity'. That fits you perfectly.” With a careless shrug, Crowley explained, “My criteria were it had to start with an A, it would have to suit you, and have an appropriate meaning. You can shorten it to Alex if you like. Or just tell them you're Welsh. People have weird names over there.”

“No, I...I like this. It's perfect. You don't hear it every day.” He turned his sparkling smile to Crowley, glancing around himself shyly. “Thank you.” It was indeed a very thoughtful gift, one he would never have been able to pick out for himself. “I suppose we ought to get packed, if we're trying to stay under the radar. How long are we going away for? What should I remember to bring?”

Crowley stifled a snicker at his fussy husband, fretting over trivial things like this when just a little while ago he feared representatives from Heaven and Hell would converge on the bookshop for their revenge. “Don't worry about it, angel. Whatever you want to bring is fine. Pack for a week. Just don't forget to bring a bathing suit!” Now that that appeared to be settled, Aziraphale started climbing the steps to his upstairs rooms. “Az?” Crowley called up.

He peeked back down the stairs. “Yes, dear?”

“You're not going to wear _that_ , are you? Cuz it's going to be warm.” The angel flinched, discomfort creeping up on him visibly. There was a reason he rarely strayed from his normal mode of dress. This was his armor, his comfort. It was practically a part of him, like Crowley's sunglasses were to him. Crowley recognized this somewhat and waved him off. “Y'know what? Wear that if you want. You look great.” He mounted the stairs and stood before him. “You look scrumptious,” he purred as he took his hands.

“Oh...really?”

Crowley nodded with a nose-crinkling grin. “Beautiful. So, yeah, whatever's comfortable.”

Aziraphale gave him another dazzling smile, his eyes alight. “Right. Good.” He then tossed an old-fashioned portmanteau on the bed and started going through his closet. In addition to a few identical beige and white suits and a hastily grabbed and packed pile of underthings, he tossed in his pair of Roman sandals from year 41 and his hat from 1941. Crowley pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and tossed them on top.

“You can have those, I have more in the car.”

“Hadn't you better pack, too?”

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets with a wrinkled nose, “Nah, I'll travel light. Don't plan to be wearing much, to be honest.”

“Oh, really,” Aziraphale tutted irritably. “There's plenty of room in the case. I know now you're planning on scampering around the beach in tiny little shorts, but you'll be all grumpy if you don't have basic creature comforts. We might want to go out somewhere. You ought to at least be presentable.”

With a theatrically annoyed grimace, as if he wasn't normally the best dressed demon or human on the block, and that his ball and chain was simply fussing him to death, he threw some clothes at random in the case as well. Then, he took out a pair of brief black swimming trunks and laid them suggestively across the top of his pile. He flicked his eyebrows with a devilish grin, awaiting Aziraphale's displeasure. None came. With that much for approval, he shut the lid and buckled it tightly before tossing it to the floor. He flopped on the bed and patted the spot next to him.

“No, thank you, dear. I'm not ready to go to sleep just yet.”

“Who said anything about sleep, angel? Come on; cuddle in.” Aziraphale exhaled a long, fluttery breath and took off his shoes. He started taking off his jacket when Crowley stopped him. “Leave it...please? Let me. I've always wanted to do this.” They'd lain down together, before, of course, but in the time since they'd been established as a couple, they hadn't bothered to prolong the occasion of going to bed. After waiting as long as they both did, snuggling together in a shared living space still felt daring!

Aziraphale's eyes went wide and he gulped as his husband removed his jacket and tugged off his bow tie. One by one, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and slid that off as well. He reached up under his cool, smooth dress shirt and pressed his fingers against the angel's warm skin. It was in just the same spot that Gabriel had mock-punched him, and ordered him to “lose the gut.” To have his husband caress the same flesh with such reverence and desire was simply splendid. Together, they groaned pleasurably. “Almost there,” Crowley growled, carefully undoing those those tiny buttons. “So beautiful...”

“Hmm, you're quite the sight yourself. Dear? Not that I'm complaining, but why tonight? I mean, I didn't know you wanted this.”

“You've been all antsy lately, thought it might help calm you down. And me,” he added guiltily. “If you want to stop, we can stop,” the demon assured him with a serious expression. He may have made his living by tempting people into wickedness, but there was a difference between temptation and coercion. He still had some honor, after all.

“It's fine, it's fine...Oh!” Crowley slipped his shirt off and planted a series of wet kisses across his tummy. It sent a shock through his body, and the next thing either of them saw was a burst of silvery gray feathers! Aziraphale sat there with his wings spread out, looking startled and embarrassed. Crowley took this as no bad sign, and did it again, creeping his way up his husband's body, writhing snakelike against him with every inch. Aziraphale's wings drooped languidly, contentedly, the fight or flight instinct that shot them out fading. Still, he didn't draw them back into his body. It felt good to have them out. He certainly didn't mind, once the initial shock was over, and it amused Crowley, who reached his shoulders by now and started to giggle.

“I'm sorry, angel, but that _was_ funny! Fwoosh! Just like on Dumbo!”

“Oh,” Aziraphale mock-groused with a pout, “So now I'm a flying elephant? How flattering.”

“Hmm-mm,” Crowley denied, back to kissing and nuzzling his way along. “Just be careful you don't knock over the lamp.” He gazed admiringly at those wings and his smile grew. “They really are beautiful.”

“And quite the reminder,” the blond added, nodding to himself as if they were both in on a joke together.

“Reminder?”

His smile grew at Crowley's confusion. “That I Fell for you,” he finished, chuckling at his own joke.

With an annoyed groan, Crowley said, “You know what telling terrible jokes gets you?” And as an immediate answer, he pressed their lips together. Aziraphale leaned up into it, drawing his wings around them both. It was absolute Heaven, to be all wrapped up in each other. Aziraphale used to think that Crowley must have more experience than this, being a demon and all, specializing in temptation. But no...the slow, reverent way he navigated the physical side of their relationship suggested that he was just as much a novice as he was. They had a lot to learn, and they were learning from each other. Humans might look at them and wonder how they could take things so mind-boggingly slowly, but that didn't matter. They had all the time in the world, and they were determined to enjoy themselves entirely.

After several tender, searing kisses and pets were exchanged, Aziraphale folded his wings back, a few loose feathers scattering onto the sheet as he pulled them back in. He sighed contently with a satisfied grin on his face as he writhed out of his trousers. Crowley chuckled as he lay fully clothed next to him, spooning up around him cozily. He planted soft kisses along his shoulder blades, along where his wings spring out.

“Mmm, if they pop out again and I whack you in the face, I'm sorry,” Aziraphale murmured lazily. “But you'd have to admit, you couldn't be surprised.”

They lay like that for some time, not even needing to speak, just lying there peacefully. “All right, angel, turn over. I want to see you.” He obeyed and they both just stared. It was like they were the only two souls in the world, in their own private island somewhere between Heaven and Hell. For the briefest of moments, Aziraphale was struck again at how different they were, how different they'd look to outside eyes while they were on their trip. Nobody would think that they were an actual couple. Despite his husband's near-constant admiration and assurance, the angel remained self-conscious about his Earthly body. He might not have a figure to stop traffic, but it was his. For one, this body had been conjured up by the Antichrist Himself, which if you thought of it, could be regarded as a status symbol. He personally liked it, it was a comfortable body to go around in. Next to Crowley, though, his posh grandeur felt faded next to the rock star vibe exuded by his companion.

Crowley gave him one last cuddling squeeze. “Good night, angel.”

“Good night, my dear. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

They rose early the next day, so early that it was still dark. They'd miracled themselves plane tickets and hotel accommodations, but they wanted to cut down on anything big that would attract attention. So, this involved a pre-dawn boarding time just like the rest of the mortals. As they waited to board on the narrow plastic gate seats, Aziraphale looked perfectly delighted. He'd never flown before, at least not in a plane, and people-watching was one of his favorite pastimes. He shot out tiny miracles to his fellow passengers, wiping away the sleepy sluggishness from some, coaxing another to return a dropped boarding pass to its rightful owner, encouraging people to buy each other coffee or breakfast pastries.

Crowley slouched sulkily, looking disgusted by this cloud of goodwill that had materialized around him. He shot his husband a sarcastic sneer, while he secretly enjoyed the relentlessly cheerful goody-two-shoes with whom he'd joined his life. He leaned in close and softly sang, “Doe, a deer, a female deer...”

Aziraphale shushed him, still bubbling away. Soon, it was time to board. Even getting squished into a middle seat couldn't dampen his spirits. Crowley offered to trade him for the aisle.

“Oh, no, thank you my dear. This is the authentic flying experience, with all of the petty inconveniences that comes with it!”

“You're way too happy about this, angel. Let me know if you want to trade later, if your legs start to cramp up.”

“It's our honeymoon! And this is just the beginning!”

The stranger in the window seat gave them a once-over, sizing the couple up. From all outward appearances, they were complete opposites, right down to how they dressed. One was dark and brooding, the other was pure sunshine in every sense of the word.

“You're on your honeymoon?” He asked needlessly. Instantly, he saw them both tense up defensively. The red-haired one clutched the blond man's hand protectively, ready and vigilant in case this turned ugly. The stranger held up a surrendering hand. “Congratulations. You make a cute couple. Opposites attract, you know.”

“Oh, yes, thank you!” Aziraphale bubbled happily.

“Known each other long?”

The angel blew air between his lips, “Forever.”

“He means it,” Crowley added. “He was so hard to get back then. But definitely worth the wait.”

The stranger shifted in his seat, “Sorry, we ought to do introductions. I'm Bob.”

“Very pleased to meet you,” Aziraphale replied, then, if possible, he sparkled even more. “Oh! I get to say it now! My name is Alexis Crowley-Fell, and this is my husband, Anthony. That's the first time I've gotten to introduce myself by that name! I like it!”

Crowley patted his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Glad to hear it. Just go easy, all right? It's early.”

“I don't mind,” Bob assured them. “I remember when we were first married, my wife couldn't get enough of signing things with her married name.”

“It means so very much,” Aziraphale agreed, casting a fond look at his husband and squeezing his hand in return.

Their flight was several hours, and Aziraphale spent most of it burrowed into the book of love sonnets that Crowley had picked out for him. Every so often, he'd grin widely and show a page to him.

“Getting your feathers all ruffled already?” Crowley murmured after the tenth one, kissing his neck and scratching him gently between the shoulder-blades. He'd been spending the trip switching between a marathon of The Golden Girls and The Good Place on his seat's screen. Aziraphale's eyes rolled up in his head at that and he leaned back into his touch.

“Oh, please, right there. I can never reach that spot.”

Crowley grinned and continued, following his husband's directions. Up his neck, down to the middle of his back, that spot right where the wing-joints appear. They both hummed softly, pleasurably, attracting their row mate's attention again. He just cast a curious eye over and shrugged. Maybe when he got home, he'd see if his wife wanted her back scratched. The fuss that this immaculately-dressed man was making over it, it seemed like quite the experience.

“That better, angel?”

“Hmm, yes. Thank you, my dear.”

After that, they tried to limit their public displays of affection, just for the sake of propriety. They wouldn't want to watch total strangers in the next row necking throughout the whole flight.

They landed, and as soon as they stopped, Crowley looked his husband up and down significantly. “You might regret wearing that. I did warn you.”

“Yes, I know you did. I'm sure it'll be all right. I'm tougher than I look.”

Crowley helped pull him to his feet when it was their row's turn to disembark. He grinned and kept an arm around him. “I know that.”

Aziraphale smiled back. “You know, I think you're the only person who's never underestimated me. I've always appreciated that.”

After they got their case and found where to wait for the hotel shuttle, Aziraphale and Crowley stood in the relative shade, but were melting already. Crowley watched his husband with unblinking eyes as the sweat dripped down his face. He ran his finger under his tie, wafted his jacket to cool himself, fruitlessly. He was determined to tough it out so Crowley wouldn't get to say “I told you so.”

“Think I might fancy a dip, now that I think of it,” Aziraphale suggested casually. “What are we waiting for, anyway? We're here, aren't we? Can't we just...fwoosh!”

“You're the one who said we're trying not to attract attention. I'm not worried about...former colleagues, they seemed keen enough to give us a wide berth the last I heard from them. Our powers haven't been revoked, the only sign that anything is different is...well, we match now. It almost seems as if somebody approves.”

“Yes, I took it that way, too. Neither side wants us, but neither side wants to be on our bad side, either.” Aziraphale cracked a naughty grin. “I rather like being _something else_ , to be honest.”

Crowley stuck out his lip thoughtfully. “Yeah. Me, too. And let's say the next big war isn't for another hundred years or more. You know how those guys all work. They take forever to get anything done and organized. That gives us plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. I agree, though, we ought to still be cautious about miracles.”

In the meantime, Aziraphale had conjured up a folding fan and was fanning himself off vigorously. Fortunately, the shuttle wasn't long in coming and they were soon on their way to the resort. They drove past scenic views of palm trees and busy streets. There were all manner of stalls set up in a market area, dotted with colorful umbrellas. The two occult forces could almost hear the crash of the waves in the distance above the noise of the traffic.

An older lady on their bus leaned toward them conversationally. “Are you boys here for something special?”

“We're on our honeymoon!” Aziraphale eagerly replied, as if he couldn't get enough of saying it. Crowley looked over at him and shook his head with a tut. As reluctant as he'd been to leave his precious bookshop and go anywhere, his husband was certainly enthusiastic about their trip now that it was underway.

“How nice.”

Once the lady was occupied with her travel magazine, Crowley took Aziraphale's arm and muttered irritably, “Az, you don't have to tell everyone that we're on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Remember that first hotel? Not everybody is going to be this nice about...us.”

“I...I was just so happy. I wanted to share it,” Aziraphale pouted, looking crushed. The lady looked back at them over the top of her magazine, sympathetically. “You're not...ashamed, are you? Of being seen with me?”

“I've been _seen_ with you for...our whole lives,” Crowley spat back. “Course I'm not ashamed of you! I'm happy, too, happier than I thought I could be, but it's...like the Arrangement. Some things we just have to keep to ourselves, in certain situations. Right? If the wrong people... know, there could be trouble, or worse. Some people kill people like us for no other reason. And I doubt very much that our respective offices would be inclined to issue us new bodies.”

“I suppose you're right. I wouldn't want us to get in trouble. Or killed. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, my dear.”

“ 'Sall right, angel. I hope nothing happens, but...” And then Aziraphale silenced him by cuddling his head against his shoulder. Obediently, Crowley drew an arm around him and returned the cuddle. “Listen, we are going to have a great time, we're going to get ripped off by street vendors, sunburnt to crisp that would put hellfire to shame, spend literally _all day_ at the all day brunch, drown ourselves in mimosas, and get sand in every crevice of our bodies.”

Aziraphale made a skeptical face, his mouth drawn into a crooked line and his eyes widened. “How...nice.”

The reached the hotel, got checked in, and tipped the bellboy handsomely. Then, they both crashed down on the bed with identical groans.

“Wh-what day is this even? It feels like getting here took all blasted day!” Crowley groused. He felt around on the floor for the portmanteau, flipped the lid open, and rummaged around. All the while, his head was still buried in pillows. He pulled his hand up, and like pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he extracted a large bottle of perfectly chilled champagne. He popped it open and set it on the nightstand. Two crystal flutes followed which he immediately filled, and a sizzling tray of crepes Suzette. They shoved themselves up against the headboard and had a pleasant miraculous meal, while rubbing their feet against each other and touching hands. They engaged in a mock fork duel over the last piece, but Crowley conceded defeat without much of a fight.

It took a surprisingly short time to recover from their flight. They shook off their fatigue and changed into their swimwear, ready to hit the beach! Crowley wore his minimalist black swimming trunks and a towel slung over his arm. Aziraphale, on the other hand, donned a long white one-piece that went to his elbows and knees, a large tartan beach umbrella, a wicker basket with his books, a broad white straw hat, and his sandals from ancient Rome. They wore identical sunglasses.

Crowley lowered his to get a good long look at his husband. “When the Heaven did you get that swim suit, angel? 1919? Did you steal it from someone with a handlebar mustache? Fight Gentleman Jim for it?”

Aziraphale simply stuck his nose in the air and feigned hurt. “Vintage styles are making a comeback, I'll have you know. Besides, I couldn't wear anything that... _revealing_.” He sounded horribly embarrassed by the very word, looking scandalously at Crowley's brief black trunks.

“Why not?”

“Why not?! In case it's escaped your notice, I've seemed to have...let myself go...a millennium or two ago. You can pull it off. I'm quite content just to admire the view.”

Knowing better than to argue fashion with his time-lapsed companion, Crowley shoved his sunglasses back up his nose and slipped into a pair of red flip-flops. He chortled and gazed sincerely at him. “And I guess I'll just enjoy this view.” Aziraphale blushed, a flattered smile creeping up his face. “One more thing before we head out. Did you put on enough sunscreen? I'd hate you to roast alive on our first day.”

“Yes, I believe so. Do you think SPF 75 is strong enough?”

Crowley chuckled, “Uh, yeah, probably. Ought to be.” He couldn't keep his smile off his face. It felt good to be someplace that wasn't England or Hell, with his beloved proudly by his side. This was happiness and freedom that he hadn't truly felt in his whole long life. As an angel in Heaven, before his Fall, he felt like a car stuck on a track, only able to go where he was directed, do what he was ordered, he couldn't even _want_ anything else. It was all very beautiful, but it didn't change the fact that it was still a prison. Being forcibly _happy_ wasn't true _happiness_. The old chestnut about there being no light without dark, no pleasure without pain was something that the loyal angels couldn't even fathom. All they knew was that they were right and the rebels had been wrong. As painful as his Fall had been, it gave him much more scope for experience than he would have if he'd remained true. In many ways, he was glad for his Fall, but he was still equally glad that Aziraphale hadn't suffered the same extreme fate. He was...tainted, yes, enough to be _something else_ , and happy to be so. He was no true angel, his loyalty to Heaven had shattered with his faith that the “good guys” would want to avert the War. Still, he wasn't truly Fallen. Not evil. Just as he wasn't evil. Whatever they were, they were the same. That thought alone made Crowley incandescently happy. 

He cast a long, smoldering look at his husband before nuzzling his neck affectionately. Aziraphale practically squealed, then turned to coyly rub noses with him. He couldn't do much more with his hands full of their beach supplies. Crowley took the basket to free him up a bit, and they walked the rest of the way hand in hand.

Down the wooden walk that led toward the shore, they could both feel each other's nerves start to hum. As glad as Crowley was to get away from England and Hell, he considered both places his domain, where he belonged.

“We're strangers in a strange land,” Aziraphale quoted.

“You know, for a man who was reportedly slow of tongue, Moses sure talked a lot,” Crowley snarled back irritably.

The angel tittered, bumping him amicably, “Now you're quoting musicals, my dear. Don't think I don't notice these things.”

“I blame you. Takes forever to get those songs out of my head.”

“Well, it's your own fault. You invented the earworm, after all.”

Crowley grinned, taking this as praise unimagined. “Yeah, I did, didn't I?” He walked with a touch more spring in his step after that, heedless of being out among so many strange humans. What petty little annoyances could he conjure up? What haven't the silly creatures already done to themselves? Really, humans made his job _so_ difficult. They were so much more creative than he could ever be at sowing misery.

“And the Rick Roll,” Aziraphale added in an afterthought. They shared a hearty laugh over that.

“I did it to Hastur once over the phone!” Crowley cackled. Now that had been one for the books! “Hastur was perfectly clueless, of course, with his limited knowledge of Earth. That made it all the funnier, listening to his periodic 'Hello? Hello? You're never gonna give me up? Who is this?' He stayed on the line for half an hour!”

Aziraphale shook his head, still grinning his face off. “You're so _naughty!_ ”

Crowley leered at him, bumping his shoulder with a mock growl. “Hmmph, I am, aren't I? I wasn't a half bad demon.” He punctuated that thought with a soft pat on the bottom.

Aziraphale startled, then pretended to scold, “You weren't a half good one, either.”

“Oh, now who's talking? You're just as off as I am.”

They found a good spot on the beach, spread out their blanket, planted the umbrella—which Crowley loudly bemoaned. _Tartan!_ Some small sentimental part of him admitted that he liked it on very special level, only because his husband did. Even when they were apart and he caught a glimpse of this favorite pattern and color, Crowley always felt strangely comforted, it was like seeing an old friend whom he missed very much. That Aziraphale still considered it the height of style was laughably adorable, and he was just indulgent enough to let him have his way in this.

“You get in the ocean first,” Crowley suggested. “You were the one getting keen for a dip in this hot weather. I'll stay and guard our stuff.”

“We could just...” Aziraphale trailed off with a significant gesture, his fingers forming a box.

Crowley shrugged, “Yeah, we could. Like we did at the book shop.”

“Just as a precaution, I don't expect to get burgled here or there.”

“Adorable. You've been on Earth for this long and you still trust in the goodness of humanity.”

They waded into the cool water, doing their best to stick together. It would be easy to get lost in this crowd. All around them, clusters of people bobbed and splashed. Some stood at the shore and flew kites or threw frisbees to each other. Families, couples, groups of friends, all chattering and shouting and squealing with delight. Further out in the water, a large jetski growled noisily by. Inflatable beach balls were thrown and batted over their heads.

“Crowley, dear? Wh—excuse you!--what exactly are we supposed to be doing?” The gathering throng was setting Aziraphale ill at ease, bordering on claustrophobia. “The water is nice, but there's not much room.”

“How the Heaven should I know? Thanks to your lot, my last beach holiday ended with me being elbow-deep in blood!”

Aziraphale looked a tad guilty, “Egypt? Look, I told you, I'm not consulted on policy. I was sent here to observe and assist, but I couldn't go against the Great Plan.”

“If you ask me, the Almighty just likes to be dramatic. She kept messing with the pharaoh's head, 'hardening his heart' and all that, just to give her tool Moses a chance to show off. Say what you like about demons, but we took a bit more concern for collateral damage. If we're out to get someone, we got someone. We didn't have to take out their family, friends, neighbors, and whatever hundreds of thousands of innocent bystanders just to be flashy.”

“I am sorry.”

Crowley shook his head vaguely, “I know it wasn't you. You don't like your boss any more than I like mine. Let's go back up, I've had enough of this for now.”

“Yes, rather,” Aziraphale agreed quickly, glad that he wasn't the first one to voice the desire to get out of the water. It was far too chaotic at the moment. “Perhaps later on, it will quiet down and we can enjoy it.”

They returned to their beach blanket and dried off, then spread out under their umbrella. Aziraphale picked up his book of _highly questionable_ art while Crowley snuggled in next to him, his hand resting gently on his husband's thigh. He idly kept a passive watch on the surrounding people, toppling carefully sculpted sand-castles, blowing frisbees miles off course, and collapsing a volleyball net just for the fun of it. The humans' sounds of dismay were music to his ears, and he chuckled contentedly to himself. He didn't enjoy causing _actual_ harm, but petty little blights were his specialty.

“You just can't help yourself, can you?”

“To be honest, I don't really try that hard to. Like you sprinkling happiness all over the airport. Old habits die hard.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers through soft red hair, teasing it up into little spikes, feeling a quiver of pleasure as he did so. He set the art book back in the basket and went back to the poetry, then resumed his petting. “This is better, isn't it?”

Crowley writhed comfortably, enjoying the feel of those fingers in his hair. It was almost enough to lull him to sleep. He drew his hand up and down Aziraphale's body, practically purring in contentment. Then, he propped himself up on his elbow, drew his husband's book down, and gave him a kiss.

“Look, Mommy! I saw two boys kissing!” a child shrieked in front of them. Startled, the two sprang apart. It was a ten year old girl, making rude faces at them.

“If I didn't think I'd get in any trouble, I'd...” Aziraphale muttered darkly. It was difficult to provoke his violent, vengeful side, but interrupt him in a cozy moment and that's what will happen.

Crowley propped himself up on his other elbow and grinned devilishly. “You'd what?”

The child had scurried off to find her mother, leaving the two relatively alone. “I don't know, bury her up to her neck in the sand somewhere, make a seagull do its business on her head...”

“Hmm, touch of the devil in you. I like it,” he praised softly, smiling to show all of his teeth. His approval, however, seemed to have the opposite of the desired effect. Aziraphale looked worried, afraid for the first time since they started their adventure.

“Is that it, do you think? I'm...”

“Oh, please,” Crowley growled, not about to pin his longtime companion's dark impulses on their recent change. “Who's the one who suffocates pigeons in his sleeves? Makes parking attendants' tablets blow up in sparks? Who was just as willing as I was to sell out Adam to prevent the Apocalypse? You've always had a dark streak. Only now, your outside matches your inside a bit more. And I like it. You're damaged property, you're not perfect, you're a misfit, you're disobedient, selfish, and my best friend in the whole world.” He leaned in and whispered, “Those wings have been waiting for you to claim them for a _looong_ time. You've only just accepted them.”

Aziraphale heaved a sigh, letting these truths wash over him. He'd been so obsessed with being the nice one, certain that he was one of the “good guys” and Crowley, best friend and trusted partner though he was, was one of the “bad guys.” His life had been so simple, really. Even at his most rebellious, most disobedient, he still clung to the party line until he knew it could no longer support him. It took their utter rejection of him to make him realize how much he rejected them. As much as he disliked all of them, and disapproved of their methods, it wasn't until he was no longer welcome among them that he thought to protest. He felt like a fake. Damaged property. That hit the nail right on the head, that was precisely how he felt. All of the other angels were absolutely perfect, flawless. What was the matter with him? What made him this way? Was it his time on Earth? Or Crowley? It had recently become quite apparent that they'd grown to influence each other over the years. Was that what it was? The only thing separating him from being a warmongering zealot? If that was the case, he thanked his lucky stars. He'd rather be anything than like them. Like the story of the cracked pot that ended up watering a path of flowers, Aziraphale reasoned that perhaps his “cracks” had somehow benefited others in ways that divine perfection couldn't have.

Crowley looked at his somber, thoughtful face and quickly tried to amend it. He had a pretty good idea what he was doing to himself on the inside. “Az...I didn't mean it to berate you. You're the finest son-of-a-bitch I've ever known. So you were a true believer. Weren't we all at some point? You had trust, faith, hope! You really believed it all! You might have had your own interests, and not-entirely-sanctioned methods, but...to be honest, you were too good for them. Too real. And you're more than your faults, you know that. You're brave, and kind, you helped save _everyone_. Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,” he ended lovingly, squeezing him in close. “I love your light, your dark, and everything in between. Always have.”

These honest words soothed Aziraphale, he smiled cautiously, then luminously at his husband before nuzzling him along the crown of his head. “And I for you,” he said in return. “Come on, it's too crowded here. Let's take a walk in town.”

“Good idea. I saw the outdoor market setting up on our way in,” Crowley hinted temptingly, gazing at his husband with his hypnotic snake eyes. They sent a delightful shiver down Aziraphale's spine and he made a keen, interested noise.

Once they'd packed up, gotten back to their hotel room, and changed, they were ready to take a stroll through the village. Aziraphale couldn't help but look a trifle smug in his cream-colored linen suit, which was the perfect compromise of adhering to his particular style and dressing for the weather. Crowley simply admired him without a word of reproach. Truth be told, Aziraphale's suits _did_ something to Crowley, he always looked like a perfectly wrapped present for him, all tied up with a tartan bow. The smile he cast after him was involuntary, irresistible, and so softly _fond._

The market wasn't far from their hotel, it was situated perfectly to attract foot traffic. Crowley grinned with pointed teeth at Aziraphale's swoon-worthy reaction to all of the delicious smells that wafted from the various stalls. There was all manner of fresh seafood, fruit, fried foods, and sweet cocktails available as far as the eye could see.

Aziraphale, gourmand that he was, didn't even bother to ask what anything was. He was ready with loose purse-strings and an open mind, not to mention palate.

“You know, Crowley, it reminds me of the markets at Mesopotamia. God, those were the days!”

“Back when people got paid in beer,” Crowley remarked, letting his angel pop a tasty bite into his mouth. He wasn't remotely surprised that they ended up sampling everything from jerk chicken, to curry goat, rice and vegetable bowls, to fruit that was practically fresh out of the ground or off the tree. “I swear, you're the one who kept the Globe Theater in business during Shakespeare's stinker days. You'd go in, cheer on whatever hapless wannabe actor was trotting out lines that day, and buy all of the oysters, oranges, and figs that poor Juliet had for sale that day.”

“I supported local business,” Aziraphale retorted. His former fellow angels had often made derisive remarks about his figure when he checked in at the “office”, but how could they expect otherwise when there were so many wonderful things to try on Earth? “Those... miserable bastards have been up there for too long,” he grumbled defensively. “Never learned how to have a good time. Just following orders. How dull!”

“Agreed, angel. I wouldn't have you any other way. I love every last inch of you,” he purred, making his husband blush and his eyes sparkle.

After polishing off a grilled salmon patty with pineapple and aoli, Aziraphale remarked thoughtfully, “You know, normally I'd find it inconvenient that there's no place to sit down, but this is really quite nice. It means we don't have to stop for the next course.” He disposed of his trash in a nearby bin and was ready for the next spot. He was looking for dessert, and there was an ice cream stand in sight!

“Hadn't you better take it easy?” Crowley advised, grinning at the sight of his normally buttoned-up husband with pineapple juice dribbling down his chin. He caught it with a napkin and kissed the sticky sweetness away. “Save some for tomorrow.”

“We don't know what will be here tomorrow!” He protested. “They might rotate vendors, or change their offerings from day to day.” And so Crowley didn't object further. Besides, there was something undeniably sexy about watching Aziraphale enjoy his crawl of street foods. He was the very picture of contentment. It was like he got some untold hit of pleasure from the act of eating that Crowley simply didn't get. There were things that he ate and could enjoy, but not like Aziraphale, who made it look like such a profound and sensual experience. He loved seeing it and enjoying it vicariously, though, and so he indulged him in that habit, just to see him that happy. By the time they were wending their way back to their hotel, the market was breaking up for the day, and the two honeymooners were each wearing new hats and scarves that they bought from vendors along the way.

Somehow, they made it to their bed. After struggling out of their clothes, they snuggled up together to go to sleep.

“You know, I normally don't sleep this much, dear. Two days in a row!”

“It's the jet lag. You'll feel better in the morning,” Crowley assured him wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his tummy. “C'mere, you,” he growled, giving him a squeeze and pressing his nose against his shoulder. Aziraphale made a pleased little noise at his touches and was soon fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Crowley was the first one up. He playfully roused Aziraphale by pinching and wiggling his foot that stuck out from under the covers. The former angel kicked back vaguely in protest with a wordless murmur of complaint. Grinning wickedly, Crowley did it again, tickling his sole this time.

He twitched it away, whining.“Back off, Oscar. My heart belongs to a demon, and he's even taller and handsomer than you,” he mumbled cozily.

There was a moment of stunned silence as this sentence—and its implications—hung in the air. Then--“You were propositioned by Oscar Wilde?!” Crowley shouted in astonishment, yanking the covers off the bed in one swoop.

Aziraphale blinked up at him, then shook the cobwebs out of his head. “Really, Crowley. Who wasn't propositioned by Mr. Wilde back then? Charming fellow. Poor bastard.” He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Good morning, dear. Oh, I feel worlds better, don't you?”

Still making a rather baffled face as he envisioned his husband turning Oscar Wilde _down...for him_ , Crowley cleared his throat and slipped into a red dress shirt. He left the top two buttons undone, bringing a smile and a blush to Aziraphale's face. “Yeah, well, this isn't how I'd planned our morning to go. Get dressed, angel, we're going to see how long we can stay at the all day brunch before they have us forcibly removed.”

This struck him as an excellent idea! Aziraphale quickly obeyed, ready for another enjoyable day of their honeymoon. By the time he was ready to go, he was practically skipping. His face was set in a look of silent rapture as he gazed up at his beloved.

As they entered the hotel restaurant, Crowley got an uncharacteristically eager expression. He took a long, deep sniff and announced, “Ooh, this is the place! This is definitely the place!” He growled with pleasure and followed the beckoning seating hostess.

Aziraphale cocked a curious eyebrow, his mouth twitching uncertainly. “I've never known you to be so eager. I didn't think you liked eating.”

“I don't, really.”

“Then how do you know that 'this is the place', as you say? You sounded awfully certain of it.”

“I go where I smell sin. Greed, gluttony, lust...it's delicious! That's what all these people are just _dripping_ with. I don't tend to notice it places we go together. The Ritz is too dainty to be this honest. This...is a den of debauchery.”

Aziraphale peeked over the top of his menu at him, wondering if his husband could all smell that on him, if he was just as fragrantly sinful. Crowley leered over at him, nodding pointedly as if guessing his thoughts. His smile grew wider when his husband visibly shed any pretense of innocence, and just gazed boldly, challengingly back at him with that prim smirk on his lips.

The former angel then turned the topic to more mundane matters, just because he felt like being infuriating.“I think I'll start with eggs benedict. We can share a pitcher of mimosas...”

“I'll order us a pastry tray,” Crowley suggested, scanning over his menu without much interest. Aziraphale was right, food never really interested him. “Ooh, they have key lime pie here. How does that sound?”

“For breakfast?” Aziraphale questioned. This sounded like pure hedonism! Still, his eyes were drawn to the dessert menu as well. “With coconut gelato,” he sighed covetously. 

Crowley propped his chin in his hand and just gazed indulgently across the table at him. “Get whatever you want, angel. This is your special day.”

“I really shouldn't,” he weakly protested, firing a coy glance, asking, begging the former demon to further tempt him.

With a wicked chuckle, Crowley played right along. “You really should. Can you imagine what those joyless schlubs you worked with would think of all this?”

Aziraphale let out a laugh, picturing it. He scowled dramatically as he put on Gabriel's gruff, disdainful tone. “'I don't sully my body's temple with... _gross matter_. Why do you consume _that?_ '” Then, he put on his million-watt smile as the two of them giggled over his impersonation. “Oh, and the others...just as bad, I expect. They wouldn't know a good time unless they filed the right paperwork in triplicate, had it stamped and approved personally by God, and set to music by Rogers and Hammerstein.”

“Same with mine. Why is that, do you wonder? Are we just freaks?”

“I'm sure they're all _capable_ of experiencing and enjoying Earthly pleasures,” Aziraphale supposed while coffee and water was brought to the table. He smiled at the server in thanks before continuing. “They just consider themselves above such matters. Like all this is somehow beneath them. Sad, really.”

“Leaves more for us, though, doesn't it?” Crowley observed logically. By then, the server had returned. He grinned up at her. “Hello. We're on our honeymoon and are looking to get thoroughly debauched. Would you say we picked the right place to celebrate?” Aziraphale cast him a curious, accusatory look. “You beat me to it the other times, angel. I wanted to tell someone!” He looked back up at the server. “He's been shouting it from the rooftops since yesterday. Like I've made him the happiest man on Earth.”

Their server smiled at them, taking in the adorably mismatched couple in front of her. “Oh, I'd say so! Want me to get a candle for the table?”

“No, I don't think that's necessary,” Crowley dismissed. “We're going to need some serious mimosas, though, largest ones you have, an order of eggs benedict, and your finest assorted pastries.”

In a few moments, their cocktails arrived: two tall, frosty glasses as well as a filled pitcher were crowned with orange slices and maraschino cherries. Crowley bit a cherry off of its stem, then stuck the stem in his mouth...after some maneuvering he withdrew it to show he'd tied it in a knot with his tongue. He continued this practice as brunch continued. Every so often, a scarlet stem would emerge from his lips, twisted into a demonic sigil, an ouroburos, and as his grand finale, a cursive A linked with a C. All the while, Aziraphale pretended not to be amused, failing miserably. 

After they'd both eaten all they could, merging from brunch to afternoon tea, to dinner, without so much as a break, the newlyweds stepped out for a sunset stroll. They hadn't gotten far from their hotel when both noticed a strong whiff of sulfur.

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “Is that you? Is that _me?_ ” He wondered aloud, looking at his husband.

Crowley shook his head. “I don't think that's either of us.”

“Good, I didn't remember you ever smelling that foul.”

“Oh, thanks,” Crowley returned with a sarcastic smirk. “I'll put that in my diary. Red-letter day. _Dear Diary, today Aziraphale told me I don't normally smell like molten sulfur. It's definitely love._ Sound catchy? Think I'll make it a greeting card. Market it on Valentine's Day.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Then what is it? Something smells...evil.” Then, a circle of flames appeared in the middle of the sidewalk, and a young under-demon appeared, looking very pleased with himself.

“Well, would you look at that? The chickens have flown the coop. Thought they could get away from...interested parties. My boss might be scared of you, Crowley, but I'm not. I've come to drag you down to your reward.”

Crowley tried to brush it off and play it cool. “Uh, no, I don't really have the time right now.”

“Didn't ask if you did,” the demon snarled, and lunged at him! He was knocked unexpectedly off his feet by a head-butt in the chest from Aziraphale! While their adversary regained his footing, the angel whipped off his tie, dropping it like a gauntlet, and raised his fists, standing between him and Crowley.

“You're gonna let a nancy angel fight me, Crowley? What's he gonna do, tickle me to death? Play his little harp until I fall asleep? Boy, are you ever finished.” But he was cut off from his taunting by a hard swing from the “nancy angel”.

“Methink’st thou art a general offense and every man should beat thee. Thou art a boil, a plague-sore! Thou leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agatering, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Hellspawn pouch!” He took another swing with each phrase, hitting him right in the stomach and jaw and toppling him to the ground. He pulled him into a full nelson, forcing the creature to submit. A small knot of curious bystanders had started to congregate to watch the brawl. “Nancy, am I? I think not. I am the Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the Hellfire Angel, the Half-Fallen. If you treat with me, prepare to meet thy doom!” The demon struggled free, knocking Aziraphale into a mud puddle on the ground, but seemed uncertain what to do now. He hadn't anticipated his quarry to be under such forceful protection.

By now, Crowley had backed off, giving his husband room to deal with their newly-acquired enemy. “Ooo,” he winced. “Now you've got his coat dirty. He loves that coat. Stupid demon,” he tutted, conjuring a large, fruity cocktail in a coconut shell and taking a loud slurp. 

A bystander came up asked him, “Hey, what's all this?”

“Uh, that demon bastard just tried to pick a fight with me, and now my husband is going to turn him into applesauce.”

“What, Prince Charming over there?” They both paused to watch the display of fisticuffs, the posh-looking man in the beige suit soundly beating his opposition at every turn. Though momentarily stunned by the odd hit, he always came back fiercer than before.

Crowley nodded proudly, “The one and only.”

The stranger looked between the two of them, sizing them up. “Nice! Give it to him, Charming!” Then, he turned back to Crowley and added, “You're a lucky man, he is _exquisite!_ ” This made Crowley do a double-take, seeing a complete stranger ogling his husband with unveiled interest. He had felt an itching in his back since the altercation began, his wings were threatening to break free whether he liked it or not, but this gave him one more reason to get them both out of the vicinity as quickly as possible!

Now he was starting to get into it as well. Crowley applauded with each hit and kick that connected. “Give it to him, angel!” Then, he bent over and picked up Aziraphale's wicker beach basket with all of his books. “Hey! Angel! Yodelayheehoo!” And threw the goat-herding book to him to use as a weapon. Aziraphale clobbered their attacker with it one last time before summoning Divine Light, evaporating him on the spot!

“Take this as a warning to your boss! Begone, foul fiend!” The creature vanished in a column of black smoke. Aziraphale huffed with a satisfied nod in its direction and brushed his hands together.

The confused crowd burst into applause while Aziraphale straightened his torn and muddied coat. Crowley came forth and pulled him into a hug.

“How the Heaven did you do that?!”

Aziraphale looked off-put by the question, as if it was an odd thing to ask. “He was rude to you. Tried to get you in trouble. I couldn't have that. We still have so much left to do! So much you would have missed out on! I couldn't carry on our honeymoon alone, could I?”

Crowley grinned manically, “No, I suppose you couldn't. Well...all this time, I thought I was protecting you! I should've known you could handle yourself well enough. Quick, let's get back to our room, I can't wait anymore.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asked, smiling as well as he caught his breath. All the while, witnesses were trying to describe the altercation to a police officer, but since no sign could be seen of a second party to the fight, he sent them all scattering.

He wasn't kidding, Aziraphale thought as Crowley miracled them into their hotel room, once they were safely away from prying eyes. They only just appeared when Crowley's wings sprang out.

“Oh...I didn't think I could hold it in any longer. Hard to fight the instinct, you know?” Then, he took in his husband, fully. “Oh, angel, you're a mess. Look at you.” Crowley moaned on his behalf. He took off Aziraphale's coat, then his waistcoat and shirt, waving a hand over them and miracling any damage away. “Now, let me see...”

“I'm quite all right.”

“I saw him land a few hits. Show me,” Crowley demanded irresistibly. Aziraphale looked a trifle embarrassed, but loosed his own wings as well. They'd definitely seen better days. Whether it was actual physical damage from the fight, or damage that they'd absorbed from the rest of his human-ish body, they looked quite scraggly. “Oh, angel,” Crowley sighed, drawing his fingers down the silvery wings. He know just what to do. Again, it was an instinct that was difficult to deny. Communal preening was one thing they'd both missed in their exiles, and while Aziraphale was usually good at combing out and tending to Crowley, he rarely gave his husband the occasion to return the favor.

“There, there,” the former demon soothed as his fingers slid delicately over soft, fluffy down and through the long, sleek primaries. Broken, bent, and dead feathers were coaxed out under his ministrations. Smaller ones clumped to the floor like clouded moonlight on snow. Aziraphale calmed more and more with each stroke of his husband's fingers. He really was quite good at that.

“That feels good,” he finally sighed, feeling he ought to say something.

Crowley smiled his indulgent smile, “Then why don't you ever let me do this?”

Aziraphale popped his neck, his eyes closed luxuriously. “It's...my job to take care of you. I don't need a fuss.”

Still, Crowley combed and smoothed his husband's wings. As a special treat, he conjured up a warm towel and dabbed at his wings with that. Soon, they were fine and glossy again. “This isn't a fuss. We take care of each other, remember? It's what we promised. It's the only way for us both to stay out of trouble.” He scratched him between the shoulder blades, around the wing joints, in all the places he knew he couldn't reach. He wrapped his arms around his middle, kissing the back of his neck, lapping him gently with his tongue.“You take very good care of me, Az. Let me take care of you.” As he performed this preening ritual, he gently touched Aziraphale's wounds, healing them instantly. “There. All better.”

Aziraphale lifted them to their full span with a satisfied groan. “That's much better! Your turn?”

“If you insist.” Crowley turned around and presented his wings. They'd already molted from all of the excitement. “You don't know how long I held them in. Watching you take that creature on was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. My Divine protector.” They chuckled over this as Aziraphale tended to him. He was quick to notice that Crowley's wings didn't need nearly as much attention as his own did. There was some shedding, but he didn't look like he was standing ankle-deep in silver froth by the end of it.

“Come to bed,” Crowley whispered, tracing Aziraphale's bottom lip with his thumb.

“I'm...I'm not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

Aziraphale blinked, realizing. “Oh. Uh...give me a moment, I've got to...” And his face grew drawn in concentration, he looked like he was trying to remember something. He pulled back his   
trousers and peeked down. “Aha! There!” He exclaimed cheerily.

Crowley swept his wings around Aziraphale, gripping him urgently as he kissed him. They quickly disrobed the rest of the way while caught up in this soft, feathery embrace, hands began wandering everywhere. Crowley patted Aziraphale's tummy, stroking it with an aroused growl. He nuzzled down in to the blond man's neck, groaning his desire. Gently pinching his hands around his hips to get that delightful bit of soft as he writhed against him. It was getting awfully hot, but they were both reluctant to emerge from their cocoon. Crowley opened his wings just a crack to let some cooler air in, but that was all.

“Oh, Crowley...mmmf...” Aziraphale groaned, pressing heated kisses into his throat. Crowley's hands crept downward and grabbed his bottom, stroking and squeezing it with desire. “Ohh!” His newly-created loins tingled, it was quite the novel sensation! “You...ah...may have to assist me...my dear.”

Crowley let out a self-conscious laugh. “You think I know what I'm doing?”

“Well, surely, you must. You were a demon, after all.”

“Angel, I've been the tempter, never the temptee. It was far more entertaining to make people behave the way they really wanted to toward each other. I never cared to take part myself.”

“Well, that's a fine thing!” Aziraphale spluttered, annoyed. “I've only... _done_ this once, and it was a while ago and I'd imagine humans are different. Besides, she was...well, I'm sure this is different.” He'd stammered over the _she_ and looked instantly embarrassed. It was nearly enough to disrupt the mood, but they were still too wrapped up in each other to hit the brakes just yet. They writhed together, stroking, kissing, licking all over. The parted briefly to catch their breath and to get a good look at each other once again. For a moment, Crowley was worried that Aziraphale would get bashful again, in regards to showing his naked body. His tells were textbook: the breaking of eye contact, the crossing of arms, that soft pink blush. Crowley was able to head that off at the pass, though. He slid off his sunglasses and just openly gazed at him with heated desire.

“So beautiful,” he growled, silently cursing whoever made his beloved this horribly self-conscious. He cursed himself, too, for ever teasing him even in jest.

“I...I know you probably think it's silly,” Aziraphale apologized, working up the courage to gaze back just as fearlessly. He stood up straighter, uncrossing himself. It looked like it took considerable effort. It wasn't lost on his husband how much work it was. He liked this body, he liked the way it looked, and he knew that Crowley found him irresistibly attractive, but he was so used to hearing critical remarks from just about everyone else that it was difficult to maintain a positive self-image. His clothes were his armor. Here, he was defenseless, naked in every sense of the word. Seeing his husband remove his sunglasses was a reminder that he wasn't the only one with armor, the only one who hid something from the world. If Crowley could be brave enough to show him his true eyes, he owed him the same trust.

“Who was it? Gabriel? Michael?”

“All of them,” the angel whispered shamefully, his voice breaking. “All the time.”

Crowley then put on his best Nanny Ashtoreth voice and hissed demonically into his ear, “Don't you listen to them. You listen to me.”

Aziraphale slowly smiled and finally laughed.

“I love you, and I love your _soft_ ,” Crowley growled before lifting him right off his feet! He spun them in place dramatically before depositing him in the middle of the bed. “This soft,” he purred, squeezing his sides greedily before sliding Aziraphale's underwear off, making him gasp and squirm. “And that soft,” Crowley added, kissing his husband right over his heart. “So good, angel, you're absolutely perfect. You hear me?”

“I...I, uh, think so, dearest.” And although he fought the urge to wrap his wings around himself, he willed himself to remain exposed, trusting. “Crowley...” 

The demon crawled up his husband's body and lay against him, nuzzling into his collarbone while he pressed their loins together. “You all right? 'm I hurting you at all?”

“No. No, my dear. Mmm, this feels rather nice.” Aziraphale stroked his husband's hair with both hands, then dragged them down and rubbed his shoulders. Crowley brushed a wing against Aziraphale's cheek, as gentle as a kiss. The angel wrapped his legs around Crowley's waist, crossing his feet against his bottom. He gave his wings a little flap to give them a bit of a breeze. It was getting hot again, but they were both enjoying it.

“Wh-who'da thought this, hmm? We're figuring this thing out, right?” Crowley growled, lifting himself up off of the blond man with a light chuckle. “Now me, my turn.”

“What?”

“Switch places, you on top,” he requested.

“I-I couldn't—”

“You can't harm me. I want it, I want _this_. Please? You are amazing...”

Aziraphale gulped. “All right. Get comfortable. Careful not to get a wing twisted under you.” Crowley obeyed with a passive smile, gazing eagerly up at his angel. “Now, promise me to let me know if...if I'm hurting you.”

“Safe word is 'ducks,' how's that? If I say that, you let me up. Otherwise, no matter what sounds I make, don't you worry. Pretty please? I just want you...every last bit of you.”

There was something in the earnest way that Crowley made his request that Aziraphale couldn't deny. He settled himself on top of him, until Crowley might as well have been part of the mattress. “Good?”

“Mmm,” Crowley affirmed, dragging Aziraphale's face down to him so he could cover him with heated kisses. In that moment, the angel forgot he ever had hangups or doubts about his body, he was just enjoying it again. Each kiss felt like he was pouring a bit of his soul into his beloved. They'd both spent millenia aching for each other, but they could never hope to satisfy that urge. It wasn't necessarily a sexual urge, but the need to be together, to be near and to love each other. An instinct to nestle close for comfort and companionship. And if they both found each other's physical forms to be perfectly breath-taking, that was just an added bonus.

Crowley drew his arms down Aziraphale's back to grab at his hips and bottom again, giving those wonderful soft bits loving squeezes. He groaned contentedly beneath his weight, so _presen_ t, so reassuring! The number of times he'd feared he'd lost him forever just enhanced his desire to never leave his side. He growled and moaned heavily with pleasure, making such sounds that if they hadn't established a safe word, Aziraphale would have gotten off of him.

“I love you, Az. I've loved you...ohhh...since that day up on the wall. Knew you were different, then. You weren't really one of the Almighty's jackbooted guards. You were soft, then, too. That's what I loved first. You've always loved the Earth, and the humans. Even when there were only two, you did what you could to protect them. So ridiculously kind and brave...I loved you then.”

“Really? Oh...” Aziraphale actually sounded embarrassed to hear that, that for Crowley it had been love at first sight. He, on the other hand, had taken a while. At first, he thought that his moment was when he gave him the holy water, and pondering what an awful, boring world it would be without Crowley in it, how much he'd miss his best friend. Then, of course, he remembered the _books_. Yes, he was in love then. So very much in love. He would have followed Crowley to the ends of the Earth if he'd asked that night. But that wasn't it, either. That surge of joy that beat in his heart like a caged bird when he heard that voice in the Bastille. More than the hope that he'd been rescued, Aziraphale had just been so resplendently happy to hear his voice one more time. Yes, that was it. 1793. They had crepes to die for. Before that, it had been a strange friendship, almost like sibling rivalry at times. When Crowley came for him in the Bastille, though, that was when those flames turned to love in Aziraphale's heart.

“Now don't lie and say it was the same for you, because it wasn't, and that's fine. I know it took you longer, but...”

“I am sorry, dear.” Aziraphale sounded riddled with guilt. Here he was, an angel, a being of love itself, and it had taken him centuries to reach the spot that a demon got to within five minutes.

“I told you not to worry about it. You were an angel. You needed time to break your programming. The wait was totally worth it, too, because we got to be friends first. Best friends. And now we're _super_ best friends.” Crowley gave him another luscious squeeze for good measure. “All right, ducks,” he conceded, and his husband got up off of him. “That was nice, though. Got a bit warm, but...you're marvelous.”

“Why, Anthony J. 'Just a J, Really' Crowley-Fell, I'm going to think you're buttering me up.”

“Like a warm, fluffy scone,” Crowley agreed naughtily as he sat up and stretched. “We could find a movie to walk us through the rest of it, if you like. Either way, we'd better put these away for now,” he suggested as he drew his wings back in. Aziraphale copied him, scooting into Crowley's lap with a meaningful smile. “On second thought, we might not need...” and they fell into each other again, irresistibly caught up in each other's orbit. They clung to each other, kissing and stroking, squeezing and groaning. They drew apart at intervals, their breath coming in hot little gasps, and they would just gaze at each other, as if neither of them could quite believe that they could be this fortunate. This was more than either of them had ever dreamed of, let alone hoped for.

After another half hour of heavy petting and making out, they once again considered renting an adult film, just to familiarize them with the process. The lay on the bed, on their stomachs, wings back out to fan them from their worked-up heat. Crowley's hand rested on Aziraphale's bottom and gave it the occasional pat and stroke. The angel smiled contentedly, wriggling with pleasure.

“I love your wiggles. So tempting,” Crowley whispered to him as he scrolled through the video selection menu. Aziraphale had read a few steamy books in his day, and Crowley pretended to have invented pornography, but the film proved to be less educational than they'd hoped, and much more distracting.

“Aw, now, I can tell they're not really into each other. Look at their pupils. No dilation at all.”

“I thought he said he was the plumber. When is he ever going to fix that sink?”

“Do you think this earns him an extra fee?”

“What about his other customers? Surely he shouldn't keep them waiting this long. There could be an emergency.”

“Really oughtta use protection, y'know. What with all those illnesses that Heaven released to punish the humans for enjoying themselves. Say what you like, but Upstairs is just as twisted as Downstairs, and don't you forget it.”

“Not all of them were ours, or yours,” Aziraphale huffed. “We weren't responsible for anything you could die from. Just the annoying itchy sort of ones.”

“Oh yeah, that's loads better. Bravo. And look at that, it's broad daylight out! No one is that easily tempted in the middle of the afternoon, during business hours! That kind of reckless abandon is more typical at 2am most places or any time of day in Las Vegas.”

“Switch it off, dear, this isn't helpful at all. And it's really rather ridiculous.”

Crowley reached under the bed for the fallen remote control. “Yeah, waste of time, this. Eh, we'll figure it out eventually.”

Aziraphale gave him a fond, rosy look, “I think we did rather well on our own.”

“Come on,” Crowley drawled, hopping off the bed and spinning his husband around by the feet so his head was by the pillows again. “We had some excitement today. I think we both need a rest.”


	4. Chapter 4

It must have been a bit more excitement than one could handle. Late that night, Crowley was jerked awake by screaming and thrashing beside him. There were no words, just blood-curdling, petrified, pleading screams that he had never heard the like of outside of Hell. He sat up and hit the light.

“Whoa! Hey, what's wrong?! Come on, snap out of it, angel. Wake up. It's all right...” Gradually, the screaming subsided and all was still. “Aziraphale? You all right? That sounded like a hell of a nightmare you were having. Shh...come here. I've got you.”Aziraphale nestled in with his husband, catching his breath.

“It was awful,” he finally choked out in a sob. “And so real! That was...that was terrifying.”

“What to tell me about it? It might help.”

Aziraphale shuddered, cuddling close. Crowley kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair. He conjured up two glasses of scotch for them. Aziraphale sipped his, letting it settle him, and spoke. “I dreamed that _they_ ,” he gestured upward, “decided to punish me by turning me mortal. Human. And...the thing that scared me the most was that if I died like that, newly made and all, I'd get sent to Heaven and never see you again.” They both grimaced and took a long drink. They were both thoughtfully silent for a moment, then Crowley smiled and gave his husband a firm pat on the back.

“Easy. If that ever did happen, I'm still a demon, aren't I? I could always 'trick' you into selling me your soul. That would get me back in Hell's not-so-bad books. Snagging an angelic soul of your caliber and reputation would be a huge credit to me, and then you'd belong to me. Forever.” He gave him a shoulder bump, making Aziraphale smile shakily, brightening. “And I'd take you to the nicest, quietest corner of Hell, introduce you around to other lost souls so you could make friends, and I'd come to torment you every day.”

“Promise?” Aziraphale asked with sparkling eyes.

“I promise. I'd take you right to the edge of 'ducks' over and over and over again.” They shared a dark chuckle over this, chasing away the last shreds of nightmare. “Let's get back to sleep.”

“Mmm, thank you. You are so very good to me.”

Crowley switched off the lamp and pulled him close, cuddling in cozily, as if he wished to convey to Aziraphale that he would always be there for him. They drifted back off together, wrapped up in a cloud of love and devotion.

They spent the entirety of the next day in bed, having finally worked out what all this sex business amounted to. After consulting a few more credible sources than a poorly-scripted adult movie, they had quite the educational experience.

“Mmm, so...” Crowley sighed after their latest bout. “That's a bit of all right.”

Aziraphale chuckled lazily, spooning up around him. “That's what we get for doing this with Bake-Off on in the background. Your sexy talk sounds like Mary Berry.”

Crowley snorted with laughter at that, then reached around an patted his husband's backside appreciatively. “No soggy bottom here.”

Aziraphale giggled. “You...are perfectly scrummy. Nice crisp crust, soft in the middle, good distribution of layers. A very good bake. You win the technical challenge.”

“This can be one of those weeks where nobody gets asked to leave the tent, though.”

“Oh, thank you. How kind.”

Crowley turned over and gazed steadily at Aziraphale with his burning yellow eyes. He was trying to make more of a habit of leaving his sunglasses off for him. “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale murmured back, rubbing against him contentedly.

“I...uh...I didn't think I could be this happy. But thanks to you, what I said was true. Damnation isn't so bad once you get used to it. If you have the right person with you. I honestly think you're what kept me from being like the others. All the other demons down there. I got to keep some shred of grace thanks to you.”

“And you kept me from being like all the other angels. Gave me a taste of the infernal. How many other angels have performed routine temptations? Or possessed someone?”

“How many demons perform blessings? Or save adorable angels who get into trouble?”

Crowley grinned. “I'm glad I got kicked out, then. It did both of us a world of good. Can you imagine if neither of us took a step off the path? We'd be up there on those little scooters, ticking boxes, praising the Big Boss, doing whatever we're told with smug superiority.”

Aziraphale grimaced at the thought. “Thank you for saving me from all that. I never really fit in with them.”

“Neither did I. Like it was meant to be.”

They finally left their room after nightfall and found the beach to be blessedly vacant. There were a few bonfire parties going on, but they were spread out enough that they had plenty of room for privacy. When Crowley suggested they give sex on the beach a try, Aziraphale was much more inclined toward the cocktail than the activity, so instead they waded out into the ocean and let the waves wash up at them. It was a crystal clear night, the day's heat had gone down. They just stood out there together, waist-deep in the water, watching the stars come out. They could just faintly hear their softly chiming celestial song. Together, they heaved a bittersweet sigh. There was no need to say anything. They couldn't go back, and they didn't want to, but they still weren't immune to homesickness. They let their wings out, to feel the night air ripple through their feathers, closing their eyes until it almost feels like flying.

The rest of their honeymoon was perfectly enjoyable. They'd met a few other couples who were also celebrating their honeymoon, so of course on their last night, Aziraphale had to suggest they all go out together somewhere to mark the occasion. None of the human couples noticed exactly when Crowley slipped off, or could swear when exactly Aziraphale acquired a black and copper-colored snake wrapped around his shoulders. He claimed that he'd had it with him all night, so most were willing to chalk up that slip to too many fruity cocktails.

They got back to their room and Crowley slithered off of Aziraphale's shoulders, taking his human form once more. “Well, that was...fun.”

Aziraphale scowled at him. “You left me with some very awkward questions, I'll have you know!”

“Oh, you did fine, angel. You know I don't do social...things. The way people gawked at us like we were a zoo attraction...I just figured I'd give them a zoo attraction,” he sniffed. “I can't wait to get home.”

“Yes, me, too,” Aziraphale agreed, letting his anger slide. “It'll be nice to get back to the regular order of things.”

Crowley gave a crafty pout. “You know, you don't have to reopen the bookshop the minute we get home. We could take a few extra days. To rest up from the trip.”

“Hmm. You know, I like the sounds of that. I can't believe how much I've slept this week!”

“And you'll probably need to again, once we get back. Jet lag,” Crowley added helpfully, temptingly. “We could order in, curl up in the back room, or upstairs,” he added with a suggestive wink. “I think the new term for that is a stay-cation.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. Yes, let's.” Aziraphale already looked worn out from tomorrow, itching to get back to his reclusive ways. He sat down on the bed and slipped off his shoes before lying down next to his husband.

“Temptation accomplished,” Crowley drawled with a grin before nuzzling in for a kiss.

Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley were able to clearly recall their journey back home. They remembered brief flashes of the airport, the fact that they had been on a plane, and now they were walking through the front door of the bookshop. Both were rather dazed, and not at all well. Aziraphale barely remembered to lock up on their way in before they went upstairs and climbed straight into bed.

“Good lord, why do people do this to themselves? And we have remarkably higher constitutions than they do! If I'm this tapped out, I'd hate to think what the average human goes through on a long journey.”

“Same reason they always beat me to the punch. They love being miserable, or making other people miserable. It's what they do. At least we can't actually get sick. Those planes are a breeding ground for the next plague.”

Aziraphale was already drifting away. “Hmm. Good night, dear.”

“Good night, angel.”


End file.
